The Letter
by rainydaysuedes
Summary: It's Hermione's 17th birthday, and Ron is at a complete loss as to what to give her. In the wee hours of the morning, September 19th, some of his pent up feelings come spilling out in a letter he never meant to write.


"Hermione's coming of age, Ron!" Harry Potter said to his best friend. They were up late, chatting while their oommates slept.

"I know!" Ronald Weasley agreed. "But you're already getting her a signed copy of 'Hogwarts, a History'. Not that I'd have the money to get that, but still! What else does the girl really need?"

"Ron, I told you. I'll lend you some money to get Hermione a present. That's what friends do—"

"No!" Ron said decidedly. "Whatever I get her is going to be completely from me. It has to be."

Harry sighed. They'd had this argument before, and Ron never backed down. "Well alright, mate. Good luck with that."

Within a few minutes of silence, Ron could hear Harry's breathing even out as he fell asleep.

He suddenly sat up in his bed. Bloody hell! Her birthday was today (considering it was one in the morning, September nineteenth). He had to do something. NOW.

Being as quiet as possible, he grabbed his quill and parchment from the trunk at the foot of his bed, and tiptoed down to the common room. He sunk into one of the oversized love seats by the fire. Might as well start on the card, he thought. He planned on drawing a line-up of books to spell out 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY', each with a different letter on its cover. But when he put his quill to parchment, something odd happened. He began to write.

_Dear Hermione, happy birthday! It seems like just yesterday you were that annoying little girl I so valiantly (NEWT level word!) saved from the troll. (Calm down, I'm only kidding. Course, I'm sure you could tell...)_

_You've been there for me for six years, and thank Merlin you have. We all know Harry and I couldn't last a day without you. Don't tell Harry I said that._

_Anyway, I know we fight all the bloody time, but that's just us, you know? It's our...friendship. It's how we've always been, and how we always will be, I figure. I just want you to know: even if we don't speak for weeks, even if I do something impossibly stupid to infuriate you, you'll always be my best friend, Hermione. (Er, along with Harry, of course.) I couldn't last a day without you. And by without you, I don't mean during one of our "fights" when we ignore each other like immature first years. I mean really losing you._

_Do you remember the night of the Yule Ball? You looked so beautiful. And everyone seemed so surprised at just how beautiful you were. I may have been slightly, at first. But then I really wasn't. I'd always seen you that way, ever since I barked up slugs for you in second year._

_Ever since then._

_You are the most brilliant person I know. Honestly Hermione, I never knew someone could be so smart until I was forced into a classroom with you in first year. And who cares if some people call you at know-it-all? That's a thousand times better than knowing nothing at all._

_So, I guess I just want to say thank you. Thank you for saving my arse very other day. Thank you for always having witty retorts to call out to Malfoy when I'm so angry I can't even speak, because he's called you a, you know...mudblood. Thank you for putting up with my stupidity and thank you for being patient when you help me with my homework. Thank you for always laughing at my weaker jokes. I mean, you actually laugh. Everyone else just pretends to think it's funny, but not you. You mean it. Thank you for never giving up on me, Hermione Granger. I couldn't last a day without you._

_Ron._

_P.S: I have something I've been wanting to say for a while now, Hermione. I think I may be in love with—_

"Ron?" Hermione Granger made her way down the stairs from her dormitory. "Ronald Weasley, what are you doing up so late?"

Ron seemed absolutely horrified. He suddenly looked down at the parchment he'd been writing on, mashed it up into a ball, and threw it into the fire. "Oh, uh, nothing. Couldn't sleep, you know."

Hermione crossed the room and sat down next to Ron. "Really? What was that, then?"

Ron wouldn't make eye contact. "Oh, just some Quidditch plays I was drawing up for Harry. They were complete rubbish, though."

The two friends were silent for a while.

"Hey, Hermione!"

Startled by the outburst, Hermione jumped. "What, Ron?"

Ron grinned from ear to ear as he said, "Happy birthday."

Hermione smiled as Ron got up and made his way toward the boys' stairwell. "Goodnight, Ronald."

At the top step, he turned back to look at her. "You know Hermione, I couldn't last a day without you."

Thankfully, her blush was covered by the red-orange light cast by the fire.

"Yeah," she said, staring straight ahead at the flames, and the ashes of Ron's parchment. "I know."


End file.
